AN: So begins the first chapter into the second arc: Exile. Hope you guys like it. Onto reviews!

~~
eternal king of fire
"I want Gwyndolin to get destroyed the little shit deserves it. Also, I'm hyped for the next arc"
Me: Well, Thomas would disagree there. Gwyndolin is just a kid with godly power and daddy issues. If you haven't seen TerraMantis' Gwyndolin The Forgotten lore video, I suggest you rectify this matter. Gwyndolin is a tragic figure lashing out because he refuses to listen, refuses to understand. All he wants is his father's approval. But his father is long gone. I'll touch on that in another chapter.

tylermech66: hrm, I demand friendship between Priscilla and Thomas through philosophical debates. GIMME
Me: Maybe another time. But not today.

Guest: I got flashbacks to Wind Waker, there.
Me, a person who has neither played nor watched gameplay footage of Windwaker: How?

Final note: The title to the chapter here is a song by a black metal band inspired by Dark Souls called Soulmass. Check 'em out on Youtube!

Now that that's done, to the story itself!

19
Vicissitudinous Entrance to the Painted World

Thomas,
The Painted World of Ariamis

As the undead sorcerer fell towards the world below, he attempted to flatten himself against the air. Every video game he ever played that had free-falling (as well as his meager understanding of physics) had done that to increase wind resistance, allegedly to slow the fall, gain control over where they fell. Don't kid yourself, Thomas, he thought to himself. You're splatting either way.

True enough, his mind countered, as he held an internal debate. But that doesn't mean I shouldn't splat somewhere my Souls won't be recollectable. Having smoothed out his falling to where he was spread-eagle, he finally broke through the clouds, and saw the Painted World of Ariamis properly. Let's see... Where to allow myself to become a greasy stain upon the universe... So many options... It was then that Thomas saw a very familiar pile of rotting flesh perched upon a broken bridge.

Who could say how long this dragon was laying there, wretched and decayed? Who knew how long the ancient, once proud beast had been forced to lay there, suffering as it's life-force became putrid. No longer able to breathe fire, this poor creature could only cough up toxic gasses, though they were still lethal to any who faced it. Sure, this dragon was a formidable threat, to anyone who didn't feel like cheesing it with arrows from a safe distance, but it had suffered far too long. A quick death would be merciful to this once-proud creature... His mind decided, Thomas piloted his falling body to where he was on a collision course with the slumbering dragon's head. Preparing twin fireballs in his fists, he pressed his legs together while holding his arms to his chest, reducing his wind resistance, and having him barrel to the dragon's head at top speed. He prayed that the initial, explosive impact would be enough to finish it off in a single go. Bo Wah Drem, Dovah Krosis. Go with peace, sorrowful dragon. The flames overtook Thomas' body, and he closed his eyes, a flaming comet ready to impact.

When Thomas awoke, he was surrounded by snow, still, with a wide brimmed, pointed hat looking down at him. His vision was blurred, so he couldn't immediately place where he'd seen it before. He could hear a bonfire crackling nearby. "Gandalf?" he groaned through the pain. "Is that you?" He tried rolling his shoulders, surprised to feel them in pain. I thought that when I came back, I wouldn't feel it. I guess it was just that severe a sensation. Lovely. Lovely indeed, the idea that some pain was so excruciating, that even dying only deadened it somewhat. This just means Smough's hammertime will suck even more.

"I hold no delusions of knowing whom this "Gandalf" is," the voice responded from underneath their hat. "But I do know who you are, which says much about your situation." The voice sounded slightly cranky, and definitely female. Looking up, Thomas squinted. Dirty robes and clothing, with a twisted staff. The wide brimmed hat looked upward, and grey eyes squinted at him. "You're certainly less impressive than I expected. Though I suppose that, ironically, is to BE expected."

It was then that Thomas recognized her. "Beatrice."

"Still perceptive, at least. That will be helpful. Get up. Your little attempt to kill the dragon was pathetic. In fact, you pissed it off, you stupid little would-be hero." Pointing at the nearby tower, Beatrice's finger lead to a rotted dragon's torso, climbing towards the top as it's back half fell off, decayed organs falling to splash upon the ground. Admittedly, the attack did some good, as half it's face was off, but what remained of it's face portrayed a rage so present, that even it's dead face could give it off.

"Oh," Thomas muttered. "Joy."

Lol'th,
Lordran

Marching through the Valley of the Drakes was a pain for the Princess of Chaos. Not because of the undead dragon. Between Solaire's lightning, as well as the plentiful arrows of both Pharis and Oscar, the beast didn't stand a chance, unable even to reach them. It was keeping these undead from falling off the cliff. It's not like it was an unmanageable delay, but now they were on a schedule, and needed to save as much time as possible. A couple extra seconds to go through the cliff slowly was better than a few minutes waiting for someone to respawn and return. "We need to take the elevator to New Londo's ruins. From there, we can take the elevator to Firelink Shrine, and then take the elevator to the Undead Parish. If you wish, however, we can rest at the bonfire in Firelink, before proceeding to the Parish. The route is not without dangers, for the Dark Sun will seek to delay or destroy us where it can."

"Actually..." Pharis spoke up, her voice hesitant. "Lautrec already killed her. We tried to stop him, but he used a crystal, and vanished to his own world."

"Right," Lol'th sighed. "Then you are going to have to be cautious until such a time as we reach the bonfire in the Parish. Besides, I imagine you will be happy to see the old blacksmith Andre again." Accepting, and filing away this information, she pressed on. This development wasn't exactly unexpected, but it would have been nice to have some good news to work with.

The least enjoyable part for her was New Londo, and dealing with it's elevator. Not so much because it didn't work. It did. But the group had to go in multiple trips. Kirk went up with only Solaire and Oscar, by reason of the knights' armor better able to protect against her brothers' thorns. Lol'th, Laurentius, and Rhea took the second trip, which irked the Princess. The once-drowned city of New Londo had been unsealed by Kirk, in order for him to trick Kaathe of one of his red-eye orbs, and the stench of the rotting bodies reached her even from here. Note: Convince Father that burning the bodies is a good idea. Thankfully, they didn't have to wait too long, as she could hear the chains slowly bringing the lift back down. "This place gives me the creeps," she muttered.

Rhea nodded. "I understand. There is... much unrest here. Too many innocents wrongly snuffed. Kneeling, Rhea clutched her talisman to her breast, muttering in prayer, before standing. "I hope they find some measure of peace in this twisted, forgotten grave in the Dark. Mayhap we should come, and bless this site, so as to lift their sorrows. When our task is completed, of course."

Lol'th shook her head. "I wish that it would work. But it's likely too close to the Abyss for any god to care." At this, the elevator ground to a halt, as she afforded herself a small smile. "But your heart is noble, little priestess. Perhaps one day, we shall return, and give what kindness we may. Does that sound amicable?"

Rhea nodded sorrowfully. "Let us be rid of this place for now. Their pain weighs heavily upon my heart."

As they ascended, Lol'th nudged the priestess. "You've got a big heart, you know. Some people would rather not come back."

Rhea seemed uncomfortable by the praise. "I merely wish I could do more to help."

"You're plenty helpful. You just haven't found an area you shine at," Lol'th said.

Beatrice,
The Painted World of Ariamis

"So..." Thomas began, looking at the angry, partially destroyed dragon corpse. "I fucked up?"

"Clearly," Beatrice responded with a tone of minor annoyance, before raising her catalyst. "Now I need to clean up your mess." Her catalyst shone with sorcerous energy, before she slammed it into the ground. An eruption of Soul Energy burst forth from the ground, multitudinous spheres rising from the sky. Expertly shaping the energy with a few deft twists of her hand. Thomas, meanwhile, gaped idiotically, as though he had never seen a master sorcerer in action before. The spell wasn't even that grand. It was merely Homing Soulmass, but tailored to increase the number of projectiles tenfold, and instead of being merely bound to hover around her head, floated around her like little stars in a galaxy, for which she was the center. Guiding, she then fired, the bolts all flying towardsthe dragon.

"No way," Thomas muttered. "That thing is way outside of the projectile range for spells. They'll-" He was effectively silenced like an idiot when the bolts of magic peppered the undead dragon, blasting it's rotted form into molding chunks, silencing the beast eternally.

"What will they do, little prophet," she asked humorously.

Thomas still had a finger raised in the air, as though he had some comment, before lowering it, shaking his head. "Perks of 99 Int, I suppose. Anyways, could you teach this to me?"

"No. It's not something I can exactly teach you." At this, Beatrice smiled at her little joke. Of course she couldn't teach him. That would be paradoxic, no doubt.

Thomas grumbled under his breath, but eventually conceded. "Fair enough, I suppose... So what are you doing here?"

"Apart from dealing with roused dragons awakened by would-be heroes or self-proclaimed prophets, I wished to question your resolve."

"Meaning?"

Exactly what you think it does, and then some, Beatrice thought cynically. "Who exactly are you?"

"I'm Thomas, from Earthrealm, sent by Ormagoden to be his prophEUGH!" Beatrice jabbed the butt of her catalyst into his gut, sending him doubling over.

"Please, enough with the theatrics," she responded, bored. "What are your motivations? What do you seek to gain from this little venture of yours?"

The little sorcerer's eyes narrowed. "Gain? I don't seek to gain anything."

"Then why press onward? Why dive headlong into danger? Why do you trouble yourself with the fates of those who wouldn't concern themselves with you, if the roles were reversed? Why dive headlong into conflicts with gods and demons? Wouldn't it be easier to just tell the world to sod off, and to manage itself?" Cutting Thomas off, she continued. "Reject this path, reject your destiny, and seek a new way to live your life. Would it not be easier to-"

"YES!" Thomas cried out, cutting her off in turn. "Yes. It would be easy. So easy to give up. To give in. To despair. As far as I know I am trapped here. I can never get out. Never go home. I had friends. I had family. But I'm trapped here now. And all around me is pain and despair, suffering and loss." Standing, Thomas looked Beatrice in the eye, and she saw a fire there. "This world is dying. If the Fire is linked, all we're doing is delaying the inevitable. If it goes to Dark the Abyss will consume it all. An alternative solution is definitively required. If a solution can be found, I'll find it."

"And if it doesn't exist? What if your efforts are fruitless, and naught can be done?"

Thomas turned away, before sighing heavily. "Then I will repeat another's mistakes, and link the Flame. You're clever AND undead. You can then, hopefully, see about finding a solution, and making me the last sacrifice. You'll have borrowed time, but hopefully I can borrow you enough."

To this, the Sorceress raised an eyebrow. "You would throw yourself upon the First Flame, then? Even if you acknowledge it to be the improper path of action? Most interesting."

"I don't believe in pointless sacrifice. If I can't find a solution, however, I..." Thomas paused a moment longer, before releasing his breath. "I'll do it. And my last thoughts will be a prayer that someone takes up the torch. To keep seeking. To think outside the box, and to find a solution to this eternal conundrum this world has had thrust up it's ass." While his back was largely turned toward her, Beatrice thought she could see the corner of a smile on the edge of his face. "If my sacrifice means buying enough time for someone else to save the world, I'm more than okay with that."

"Hm... I see." After some thought, the sorceress allowed herself a small chuckle. "You truly are a strange one, aren't you?"

"Heh," Thomas chuckled in return. "You could say that."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And so ends the first chapter of Exile. Sorry again for the delay. Life's been a bitch (We're actually late on our water bill. Oops). Read, review, maybe give power suggestions, and prepare. For next comes Sen's Funhouse.